


Out Of Ashes

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Gen, POV Alternating, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world goes to pieces, strands tie together. Alliances form and eventually - in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere - everyone starts over. Or, an ensemble-cast zombie-apocalypse AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Octavia

When the world goes to hell, you are eight months married and six months pregnant. You are also twenty-one, well-adjusted, and happy - but none of those things matter when the virus hits. What matters is that you are tiny and vulnerable and in love with someone who will die for you, it's all too obvious that he will if the situation arises. You figure that out the night he shuts his laptop and gives you a worried look and you know, in that moment, that your world is never going to be the same. The dead are rising and you are on the verge of bearing new life. This just isn't fair.

"We need to run," he says, and you don't question it. There was nothing left for either of you in the city long before the epidemic - you never wanted to raise your child here, and you know your partner longs for open spaces and solitude. But it's different like this, your heart racing as you fling a few essentials into a backpack. You'll go on foot, he says - less chance of anything bad happening that way. Clearly he's forgotten that you can barely move some days, but you trust him. If he thinks this is a good idea, you'll follow, because in the three years you've known him, he hasn't been wrong yet.

It's a long few days, turns into weeks. You don't know where you're going and you're pretty sure he doesn't either - just trying to find somewhere safe, he says. You learn to exist on a minimal amount of sleep and food and use a knife to stay alive. You're not built for this, you know you aren't. But the little creature inside you is. It squirms at all the wrong times, and you wonder what sort of world you're bringing it into. You are now approximately seven months pregnant and you are _scared_.

"What are we gonna do when it's born?" you ask one night, resting your head against your husband's shoulder. You're on the third floor of an abandoned house, multiple locked doors between you and the outside world, safe. It's the first time you've slept on a mattress in nearly a month.

"You'll be fine," he replies, stroking your hair.

" _We_ will be fine," you correct.

"No," he says. There's a certain sadness in his face, a look that almost scares you and makes your heart beat faster. "You need to be safe. I've heard about a base a few days from here. You'll be alright there."

"And you're coming with me." It's not a question, or at least you really hope it isn't. Even before, you had no plans of doing this parenting thing on your own. With things as they are… "I can't lose you. I can't."

"You're better off without-"

You silence him with a kiss, clinging until you're sure you've sucked every thought of departure out of him. "Don't say things like that to me. I chose you. I'm standing by that choice."

"Please. I'll come find you, I promise. It's just… it's not safe for you, what we're doing now."

"And it is for you?" you laugh, trying not to roll your eyes. You've watched his sense of self-preservation begin to ebb away, but this is a new level of bad.

"I'll find you, I promise. I love you, Octavia."

Well, who the hell are you to argue with _that_ logic?!

In the morning, you wake and find a map where your lover's body once was. On top of it, a scrawled note. _Be careful. I love you. I will come back_.

"Fuck you," you mutter, but you fold the note carefully and shove it into the front pocket of your jeans. Between that and the simple wedding band on your finger, you've got more than enough reminders of your choices. You can do this, you tell yourself. He'll come find you. Three years and he hasn't been wrong yet and you highly doubt this is the exception.

A week later, tired and sore, hands on your stomach because you're fairly sure the baby already wants to be a soccer player, you stand outside a well-defended warehouse in the middle of nowhere. "Anyone in there?" you yell, voice breaking. "Anyone?"

"Who are you?" someone replies. Above the barbed-wire fence, you see a human head, nondescript from your angle except for a pair of colorful skiing goggles.

"My name is Octavia Birch. My husband… he wanted me to come here, I… I'm gonna have a baby in six weeks, maybe sooner. I just need to rest."

It's a few moments before the gate is unlocked, revealing goggle-boy and an equally nondescript Asian kid. "So you're L's girl?" the second one asks, glancing you over.

"Do I want to answer that question?"

"Monty," the normal-looking one says, sticking out his hand. "This dingbat is Jasper. We've been holed up here for about a month. Your person contacted us before the power went out. Few mutual friends, seemed normal. He seemed interested in what we have here."

"We?" you ask.

"So far it's just the two of us," goggle-boy - Jasper, you correct yourself - explains. "And you now, I guess. But this place is safe. Impenetrable. Nobody comes in that we don't want. You're safe here, as long as you need to be."

You're not the best at trusting people, but it's worth a shot. What else is there for you? This is quite a setup, from what you see, and at least you'll be around people again. "Consider me in."

"Awesome," Monty says, beckoning you inside as his friend shuts the gate. "Oh, um… are you okay?"

"Are you asking if I'm on the verge of giving birth, or…?"

"No, you just look… tired."

"Tired?" you repeat, almost growling. "Yes. And sick of everything, and mad at my partner for ditching me, and…"

"Wait, he did what?"

"You heard me. He's an idiot sometimes, I love him to death but…"

"He'll make it here. I know I've only known you for five minutes, but you're not the sort of woman people leave behind."

"I used to think that."

"Keep thinking it. What little I know, this is to protect you and the kid."

"And what about him?!" You're almost crying now, you hate to do this in front of someone you barely know but you can't stop. "I can't-"

"Again, I have no idea what I'm getting into, but… you're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

"The zombie apocalypse hit two months ago and you're getting optimistic on me. How is this my life?"

"There. Now c'mon. I'm pretty sure we've finally re-wired the water heater… it _should_ work…"

Stuck in the middle of nowhere with two tech geeks, waiting for your love to get you the fuck away from this place. Well, if you have to wait out the end of the world, you could do worse…


	2. Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's go track down the brother-in-law" is about as fun as it sounds. Which is to say that it ISN'T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo it's been a year since I updated this but I'M BACK. Thank you so much @allureofproductivity for reminding me this beastie exists and getting my tail in gear about it. (Also, there are gonna be some tag updates because s2 obviously happened and a few of my plans for this thing changed. Ships did not; other dynamics did. It's gonna be beautiful.)

The problem is you've made too many promises. You are loyal above all else, and that's gonna be your downfall someday. Your girl used to tease you about it, before the world went to shit. She used to think it was cute, but it worried her some too. Same night she told you she was pregnant, she said she was pretty sure your protectiveness would get you killed someday. Six months later and several hundred miles away, you're worried she might've been right.

You left her. You fucking left her, and you hate yourself for it because you always hated men like that but desperate times call for desperate measures and she's better off without you. She's better off without you and you've told yourself that every day for three goddamned years and yet she still stayed even when your head got bad, even when the world fell apart, even when you told her time after time that her chances would be better if she was on her own. She's young and pretty and great with child; you're six years older and battle-scarred and crossed the line of haunted well before any of the current bullshit happened. She's better off without you, and if walking away completely is what it takes to make her realize that then so be it.

You left her, and you're starting to wonder if taking your own life just might be the right way to tie things off.

She'll be safe at the base. You know that sending the person you love towards two dingbats you occasionally talked to online is a risky scenario, but Octavia needs protecting and the baby needs protecting and they could do a lot worse than two slightly paranoid grad students in a concrete bunker. They'll be _safe_ there. Eventually, you'll find your way there and take whatever she gives you again and try to go back to whatever form of normal you can get. Eventually, you promise yourself, things will be okay. But god, what if they really _are_ better off without you?

Unfortunately, not all your obligations are so perfect.

There's your brother-in-law, for one thing. Your asshole brother-in-law and his obsession with military history and his impulsiveness and your stupid promise to Octavia that if time allowed you were gonna track him down for her. That's what you're doing, fighting your way through a parasite-infested wasteland in search of someone you don't even _like_ because they're important to your wife. That's how you do this good spouse thing. _That's_ what's gonna get you killed.

(In fairness, you would've liked Bellamy a lot better if he hadn't threatened you with a gun the first time you met him. It was not reassuring to eventually learn that said gun was (a.) approximately a hundred years old and (b.) had probably not worked in several decades. It was still a freaking rifle, and the man who is now your brother-in-law is still basically the Hulk without any of the redeeming qualities, and it's gonna be a long time before your opinion changes on that situation.)

In theory, he's in Chicago, which is an interesting detour from the bunker in southern Indiana. Also a lot of ground to cover on foot. You hate yourself for doing it, but you told Octavia you would and she's already pissed off at you (you know her too well and she holds a grudge better than anyone and you'll be amazed if she ever lets you touch her after this) so you might as well try to get this one thing right or die trying. Option two sounds more appealing, but you won't give in. Not yet.

God, you miss her.

It's better this way, you remind yourself. Wouldn't be fair to make her do this with you, not in her condition. She would've tried, but that wouldn't change anything. It's better this way.

You walk towards an abandoned city, a weapon in your hands and your heart too heavy, and you wish you knew you were doing the right thing. Chances are the person you're looking for isn't even in this godforsaken place, but you'll take it apart in search of him anyways because that's just the sort of person you are. You don't do things halfway. You _will_ complete this task.

Then, and only then, will you be good enough for the life that waits for you.

You're a survivor. You try to deny that part of yourself but denial doesn't make it any less real, denial doesn't blank out the countless memories of your wife's sweet voice telling you that you are good, denial doesn't take that small part of you that has hope. If this darkness ever passes, you will rise again and you will be enough and you will be made whole.

First, though, you've got to pray to every deity you can think of that your idiot brother-in-law is still findable. You're not worried about _alive_ \- Bellamy will outlive the cockroaches, you're not lucky enough for that situation to play otherwise - but findable could be the problem. In a city of the dead and worse-than, you're looking for somebody who knows more about spy maneuvers and apocalypse scenarios than any normal person really ought to, but you are _going_ to find him. You have to. It's the only option.

Then, and only then, you can go back to what matters most.

 


End file.
